


Contentment

by wyntera



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Peapod McHanzo Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 03:41:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13262889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyntera/pseuds/wyntera
Summary: Day 3 of Peapod McHanzo Week! Today's prompt: Laundry/Chores in GeneralRetirement agrees with them.





	Contentment

“Ah, last one.” Hanzo digs his gloved fingers into the soil, the dirt malleable enough to not need a trowel. The ground on the north side of the vegetable garden is always more difficult to work with so he always makes sure to start on that end first as it is harder on his old joints. With careful but confident movements he works the leafy green plant from the soil until the roots come free, and with them his prize. Eleven gorgeous potatoes. “And a generous one. A good omen.”

Hanzo shakes the excess dirt from the plant and plucks the tubers from their root system, dropping them in a bucket close to overflowing. He has already carried more than he anticipated back to the kitchen for cleaning. They will have more than enough for the winter and spring, even more than enough for the farmer’s market. Perhaps some of their old teammates may be interested in some home-grown potatoes. Genji would never say no to free food.

His back protests standing. It also protests the cold, but not nearly as much as his fingers. The garden gloves protect from dirt but are hardly insulated. The sooner he finishes the sooner he can get his fingers in some proper gloves. “Soba? Udon?” he calls, looking around his expansive garden. “Where are you?” A rustling over by the rutabagas, and another by the carrots. “Soba, you better not be eating the carrots again!”

The plants quiver and shake as two little dragons come weaving their way through the garden. Udon winds his way around Hanzo’s legs, while Soba bounds over in excitement, a field mouse clutched in his teeth. He presents it proudly to Hanzo, who smiles indulgently even as he recoils his hand. “Very good, Soba. Good job.”

Soba snaps his jaws and the mouse is gone with a quiet crunch. He and his brother trail after Hanzo through the garden, winding their way through the cabbage, radish, beets, and parsnip. They wipe their little paws on the welcome mat along with their master, then slip into the warm kitchen. Hanzo adds this final bucket to the others in the corner, all full of potatoes ready for cleaning and storage. A task that can wait until later. For now he warms his hands in hot water from the sink and looks through the window to try and spot his husband.

There, along the treeline in the closest field. Jesse has been out there since the sun rose--late at this time of year, too late for there to be enough hours in the day--repairing the fence. He has been putting it off for weeks, a dozen other tasks seeming more important at the time. But the days are too short and temperatures too cold to put off any longer. Hanzo hopes that they will not need more repairs throughout winter, but it is a cynical hope at best. Falling branches do so much damage this time of year, and the winds have picked up recently. They are in for a hard winter.

The stew Hanzo started this morning simmers on the stove, delicious and tantalizing. A quick stir and he replaces the lid; the flavors should be perfect by nightfall. It will make a good dinner and the frozen leftovers will be even better weeks from now one cold evening when neither of them feels like cooking. Hanzo puts a pot of coffee on and tidies up, moving their mail from the kitchen table and setting out bowls and spoons for later. He pulls the tie from atop his head and he shakes out his long, white hair, enjoying the feel of it being free after having it up all day. Once the coffee is done he pours two thermoses full, one for Jesse and one for himself. A knitted hat and his gloves and he is back out the door.

Just in that short time inside, Hanzo feels like the temperature dropped several degrees. He pulls his coat tighter around himself, then strikes out down the dirt road that runs along the edge of the pasture.

His and Jesse’s farm is not big, but not small, just enough for two old men to work the field and garden and make ends meet. Enough cattle to breed for sale, enough food to take to market, enough to live off and a little extra. A simple life. He loves this place. It is hard to believe that they have been here but a few short years. Looking back, Hanzo knows they fought for too long. Overwatch no longer needed them ten years ago, agents younger and healthier than they filling the ranks of the redeemed organization. They could have retired so long ago. But fighting was all they had ever known, and the thought of any other life seemed anathema. Little did they know what was waiting for them, if they just let themselves want it.

If Hanzo gets to thinking about how they came to be here, he will be an emotional mess before he delivers Jesse his coffee. He breathes in and out deep, the air hanging in a white cloud before him, and makes his way down the path.

He hears Jesse talking to himself, muttering to his tools and the fence posts and the trees, as he is wont to do. His husband enjoys a bit of peace and quiet as much as Hanzo, but he would always rather have a background of chatter. A good thing, because Hanzo is certain that if not for Jesse’s need to make conversation they never would have gotten together. As he comes closer, though, he sees that Jesse is not talking to nothing, but rather Junebug. The tri-colored pygmy goat is meant to be a companion animal for Jesse’s mare Chica, and usually she spends her days wandering after the palomino morgan and the charolais grazing in the fields. Today all the animals are clustered by the big barn with only Junebug hanging around to keep Jesse company.

Junebug bleats when she spots Hanzo approaching and slips under the bottom strand of barbed wire, trotting up to butt lightly at his knee. It gets Jesse’s attention, and he stops to tip his hat back on his gray head. “Well howdy there,” he greets, slightly out of breath. Not so tired that he cannot shoot Hanzo a charming smile. “What’s a handsome man like you doin’ in a place like this?”

“Coffee delivery,” Hanzo replies, smiling back. Soba and Udon race ahead and circle up Jesse’s body to offer a quick squeeze before they leap off, bounding through the field toward the hill beyond. Jesse grew hay there over the summer, but now the stalks have been harvested, the bales stored in the barn for the year. The hill is golden cream now with dead grass, beautiful in its own way against the skeletal trees in the distance and the blue-gray of the sky. The dragons like to hunt for mice and rabbits there, their scaled bodies leaving arcing bright blue streaks criss-crossing the land.

Hanzo passes over the extra thermos and Jesse quickly uncaps the lid and takes long gulps of the hot beverage. The steam from the coffee fogs his glasses. Only once he has drained half the bottle does Jesse stop to give a grateful, “Thank you kindly, darlin’. You finish with them potatoes?”

“Just now. It was a good harvest this year. We grew much more than I anticipated. I hope you like potatoes, because we will be having a lot of them for a while.”

“Never met a potato I didn’t like,” Jesse says. He takes another drink then sets the thermos on top of a finished fence post, turning back to his task.

Hanzo places a hand on the post, feeling the grooves in the wood. “And the fence? How many did you have to replace?”

“Too many. This is the last one, though. I gotta close off the far gate and turn on the heating lamps in the barn, feed the animals. Then I can come in. Should be done soon enough.” A grunt as Jesse takes to one knee, hammer in hand. His poor legs must be worn out by now, and Hanzo can see him favoring his bad knee. He does so much, more than he should, and even after all this time he still has trouble asking for help. A bath might be in order tonight after dinner. A long, indulgent bath, where Hanzo lights some of their candles and adds something scented to the water, then bundles his husband up in flannel and fuzzy socks. They can cuddle by the by the fire and share a slice of persimmon pudding, then burrow under the numerous quilts on their bed and fall asleep wrapped around each other.

Plan made, Hanzo leans down and scratches Junebug behind the ears, waits for Jesse to stop his hammering and check the tension on the wire. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Naw, I got it covered. You should head in and get warm,” Jesse says. He seems satisfied and tries to stand, but his leg falters and he stays on the ground. Strong hands wrap around his arm and help him up. Jesse smiles, tries to avoid Hanzo’s gaze but fails, deflects. “I can finish my chores, Shimada, don’t you worry none.”

Hanzo lets the incident slide, for Jesse’s pride. “Yes, but the sooner you finish the sooner you can join me. I much rather have you inside, McCree.”

“Well ain’t you just smooth as butter,” Jesse chuckles, leaning down for a kiss. Their lips are chapped, their noses ice cold, and their smiles make it more an uncoordinated mash rather than a proper kiss. Just means they have to go in for seconds.

When they pull apart, Jesse tries to move back to his work, but Hanzo holds him still. Sometimes Hanzo has to stop Jesse in his tracks and just look, take in this man that changed so much. He has to gaze at Jesse’s dusty gray hair, and his crooked nose, his tawny skin and broad shoulders, the scar on his cheek and the glow in his eyes and remind himself that Jesse is his and his alone. That they chose each other and this life and this is not a dream.

Jesse stares back, curious but knowing, and tucks a long lock of white hair behind Hanzo’s ear. They never discuss it, but Hanzo thinks sometimes Jesse has to just stop and stare, too.

The cowboy opens his mouth, no doubt to say something corny or inappropriate to ruin the mood, but he stalls as his eyes catch on something in front of Hanzo’s face. Hanzo leans back, eyes focusing on the white speck and following it down onto Jesse’s coat sleeve. They both look up to find the first flakes of snowfall. Hanzo laughs, and then Jesse does too, snow beginning to silently fall around them. They will have to hurry to get the chores done before the snow settles. Pushing into Jesse’s space and snuggling under the safety of his hat, Hanzo kisses him again. It will be a hard winter, he is sure, but he would face a hundred winters if they all start with moments like this.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like that and want more, want to check out my art, or just want to chat, come on by my tumblr! You can find me under username wyntera. And if twitter is more your game, come and join me there, just look for @ThreeCatDesigns.
> 
> And hey. Thanks.


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